All Your Colors
by Marauder Number Fiive
Summary: Whirling colors are all I ever see. Reds, greens, and whites magically weave themselves into a blanket with which I comfort myself at night. These are the colors of you..." Lily has a secret admirer! Betcha can't guess who it is ; R&R please


**I don't own Harry Potter...):**

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**_First Year_**

_Evans, Lily_

_you are so silly._

_I think you're also cute_

_Thank Merlin you're not a mute!  
_

_You have very pretty eyes_

_Please be my prize?_

_All my love,_

_Your Sweet Morning Dove.  
_

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_**Second Year**_

_So last year was a right old cheer_

_but now we're older so you should hear._

_I've moved on._

_Ha did I scare you?!_

_As if I could block you from my view._

_You dazzle me_

_And won't go away, just like an annoying flea._

_But that's okay..._

_Cause I really want you stay._

_All my love,_

_Your Sweet Morning Dove.

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**Third Year**_

_In Herbology Lockhart asked you out._

_I wanted to claw his eyes with a sprout._

_Lily, oh Lily how I wish you were mine_

_yet this poet is afraid to attempt at a shine._

_I fear that someone so perfect as you_

_would turn me down in the time it takes to count to two._

_It's just that you're so perfect and I'm so not..._

_this is unnecessary to say but you're also damn hot._

_Your personality's as great as your looks - _

_I really like the way you go through books._

_And you're so amazingly nice_

_I wouldn't be surprised to see you talk to some mice!_

_Lily what I'm trying to say_

_is that I think I decided I love you today..._

_And if that poof ever looks at you again_

_I'll be sure to break his veins.  
_

_All my love,_

_Your Sweet Morning Dove._

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_**Fourth Year**_

_Roses are red,_

_Violets are blue._

_My past poems rhymed,_

_But this one won't!_

_My mum has told me that apparently you_

_can write poetry without having it rhyme._

_So I figured I'd take a crack at it!_

_Oh Lily, oh Lily._

_My have you grown._

_No longer are you a pretty little girl_

_but instead a gorgeous woman._

_Sorry this poem was rather...suckish._

_Maybe I'll stick to the whole rhyming thing_

_on second thought._

_All my love,_

_Your Sweet Morning Dove.

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**Fifth Year**

_Down by the lake_

_an angry Angel howls._

_Screaming, shouting, yelling,_

_she has never looked more glorious._

_And though the site of her fills me_

_with a bubble of excitement,_

_the bubble is popped..._

_knowing that I cannot take her in my arms_

_and comfort her._

_I cannot reveal to her in person how hard_

_I practiced writing poetry for her._

_How I adore the way her chin's pointed_

_or the way she chews on her quills._

_And now down by the lake_

_a tearful Angel cries_

_yet I cannot comfort her_

_again._

_All my love,_

_Your Sweet Morning Dove._

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_**Sixth Year**_

_A gentle fuzz glides down._

_Nestled in your long hair  
_

_it makes itself at home,_

_stopping to rest_

_and breathe in your sweet aroma.  
_

_Oh how I long to free it..._

_but you're not mine to touch._

_Yearning, evermore is all I do_

_Sometimes near..._

_but mostly from afar._

_All my love,_

_Your Sweet Morning Dove._

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**Seventh Year**

_Whirling colors are all I ever see._

_Reds, greens, and whites_

_magically weave themselves into a blanket_

_with which I comfort myself at night.  
_

_These are the colors of you;_

_Your hair is redder than the fairest rose_

_except it smells sweeter and is more voluptuous._

_The eyes, sitting on both sides of a perfect freckled nose nose, captivate me_

_with their depth and knowledge complimented in a lovely shade of emerald._

_And the glorious white that colors your skin glows brighter_

_than the first snow and brightest star combined with the purest wine._

_The sound of your voice shakes my bones to the very core._

_Shivering, I warm myself with the thought of your tinkling laughter._

_Ms. Evans, I am normally not one for poetry and romance_

_but you have awaken the hidden man in me and he wishes to escape._

_And though I have kept my secret for all seven years,_

_it is time that together we reveled in company.  
_

_Midnight, the kitchens, January 18th please do come_

_Of course...I'll understand if you decline.  
_

_And you must know that whichever you choose_

_I'll always fancy you, in all your colors._

_All my love,_

_Your Sweet Morning Dove.

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_It was Lily's Seventh Year. Each and every New Year's one of these sweet poems had found its way to her, whether she spent the holiday at home or at Hogwarts. The last and final poem had arrived exactly sixteen days and twenty-three and a half hours ago, when the clock stroke midnight and the calendars of 1987 were thrown away at last. And Lily was calm, cool, and collected, completely relaxed.

"OH MERLIN MARY. WHAT DO I WEAR."

She was the definition of tranquil.

"MARY, MY HAIR LOOKS LIKE YOUR CAT ATE IT!"

Seriously though. Just because she was about to meet the boy she had dreamed about for years didn't call for a panic, right?

"MARY, I AM PANICKING. BAD THINGS HAPPEN WHEN I PANIC."

Maybe she was a bit stressed out. But people hyperventilate when they're happy too...right?

"MARY. MARY. **MARY.** OPEN THE DOOR! I NEED MY SHOES!"

Lily barely had time to duck because her shiny black shoes (not that she had polished them specially for tonight or anything though...) came zooming out the door, thanks to a very annoyed brunette.

"Maybe I shouldn't go," Lily panicked as she retrieved her footwear. "Maybe he won't show up. OH MY GOD MARY HE'S NOT GOING TO SHOW UP!"

The door to Lily's dormitory flung itself open. In the doorway stood a very livid Mary. "Lily Evans you are to go down to those kitchens and you are to meet that boy. You are not to come back until at least one o'clock. Do you understand me?" she said extremely quietly and quickly. Lily gulped and nodded her head. Her friend was scary. "Good." And with that the door was slammed shut in her face with a force strong enough to shake the floor of the stony castle. Correction - her friend was _very_ scary.

"Very Scary Mary," Lily whispered to herself.

"I HEARD THAT. LEAVE."

Shoes only halfway on, Lily ran down the staircase to escape more flying objects and the wrath of her roommate. Besides she only had twenty-one minutes to get down to the kitchens! On her way down, Lily daydreamed of who her poetic prince was. He had always signed the poems "Sweet Morning Dove." A dove was a bird, which led her to believe that he was in Ravenclaw. The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws had Herbology together in Third Year, although her admirer And he definitely had to be in her grade, seeing as she got a letter from him all seven years at Hogwarts. Maybe it was Benjy Fenwick, the strong and silent Keeper of the Ravenclaw Team. He seemed like the right kind of guy to right poetry, and he had a good sense of humor too...

Quicker than she thought possibly Lily faced the portrait of the fruit. Taking in a deep breath she tickled the pear and the kitchen appeared before her. Scanning briefly, all she saw was elves running here and there, just starting to prepare breakfast. Then she saw him. Sitting there. Munching on a piece of cake. Waiting for her.

"...Peter?" Lily asked with disbelief.

"Hey there Lily!" he cried cheerily. "Glad you're here, come sit and try some of this cake, it's fantastic! It's not even thick at all, makes you feel as light as a fuzz on a dove!"

"...._fuzz_...on a _dove_?" Thousands of thoughts ran through Lily's head. It all made sense now...Some of the earlier poems were rather foolish, childlike even. Peter was one of the most immature people she knew. Lily could never be his because Potter was always overshadowing him. He knew how she was upset at the lake because he was there, and he had wanted to comfort her! Not to mention he had always seemed like the type to be a mummy's boy and to discuss poetry with only her...And then there was the obvious mentioning of dove and fuzz right there...it was all so clear. Her knight in shining armor was a loser in tinfoil. Not that she could ever tell him that, it would just crush him. She had to let him down gently and nicely.

"PETER I DON'T LOVE YOU!" she blurt out. Whoops.

"Erm...that's nice," he commented back, looking at her like she was insane.

Lily felt as confused as he looked. "But don't you love me?" she asked.

Peter turned tomato red as he stammered out, "Of course I do Lily, but in a completely pl..p..pl..platypus way."

Now Lily was really confused, absolutely bewildered. "You mean platonic?"

"Yes, yes that's the word, that it is. Well I've got to run, this has been a nice little...awkward chat. BYE LILY!" And with that the small boy sprinted out of the door as fast as he could, even leaving his cake. And when Peter leaves cake that's saying something.

"Oh my goodness, oh my goodness," Lily said to herself while rubbing her temples. "Can I please get a cup of tea over here?" she called out to a House Elf. Almost immediately it was brought to her. Throwing her head in her hand she started sipping and talking quietly, "Nice going Lily, what were you thinking? Of course it's not Peter, not that you handled that situation well though. 'Don't you love me?' Seriously, I'm insane." She stood up abruptly, causing a bit of tea to pour out over the side of the cup. "I'm leaving!" she called out to no one in particular.

The redhead had taken all of four steps when she felt two strong arms wrap around her waist. "Leaving so soon?" a deep voice whispered in her ear. She spun on the spot to see who it was, but one of the arms quickly jumped up and covered her eyes. "Just listen love, I wrote another one. _Oh my flower, my beautiful red flower. Wanting I reach out to you_ a hand stroked her waist_ yet afraid I retreat_ the hand stopped. _How can a flower so stunning be as cold as a harsh winter day?_ A gentle breeze whistled around her ear, shivers simultaneously running pleasantly up her spine. _Lately the frost has been melting and the flower has truly begin to bloom. And I must say that the petals are quite...surprising._ The hand removed itself from Lily's eyes and joined its partner around her waist.

"Oh James..." Lily said, tears welling in her eyes. "All of them, well at least from Fifth Year up, are simply amazing. And all of them, even the older ones are the sweetest things ever."

Hazel eyes crinkled with happiness. "Glad you liked them. I'll have you know that I was put under a good amount of torture Third Year when Sirius found a couple of my rough drafts. I'll have to tell you about it sometime."

"Tell me now," she demanded. Then she did something that shocked both of them; she placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "We have all the time in the world," she whispered, leaning her head against his.

With a goofy smile, he sat down in a chair, pulled her into his lap and started his story. When he finished, he murmured against her neck, "I really do love you Lily, and all of your colors."

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**Surprise! I'm alive!! And I still like one shots. And reviews. Love reviews actually. Get the hint? (;**

**Isabel**


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